The Golden Children of the Riddermark
by CarawynO
Summary: A series of one-shots centered on Theodred, Eomer and Eowyn as children and young adults, before the War of the Ring
1. A Royal Wedding

October 1, 2989

Meduseld's great hall was full. Full of color, full of music and voices, and full of people. Garlands of red and gold leaves had been wound about the great columns of the hall, and sheaves of wheat and barley stood in the corners and along the walls. The fires were lit to both provide light and to ward off the chill of the autumn evening, and hundreds of people filled the hall. After all, it was not everyday that there was a wedding in the royal family, and all of Edoras wanted to celebrate the marriage of the king's sister Théodwyn to Marshal Éomund.

Amid all the celebration and feasting, one boy sat alone on a hard wooden bench, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands, which were pillowed on top of the table before him. His right foot swung in a steady rhythm, kicking the table leg with a dull thud. Théodred was clearly not celebrating, though it was his aunt's wedding.

After a few minutes he changed positions, leaning his left elbow on the table and supporting his head on his fist while he traced the patterns of the grain in the boards that made up the table top with his right index finger. All the while his foot kept up the steady cadence of leather soled boot against the wooden table leg.

Théodwyn was going to be leaving Meduseld after today. Leaving him. She was married to Marshal Éomund now, and would be going to Aldburg in the morning.

She was his aunt, yes, but he'd always thought of her as more of an older sister. His mother had died when he was born, and it had always been Théodwyn that he had run to when he'd scraped his knees, or if he was sick. She had always been there for him when he needed her.

Who would look after him now? Who would mend his shirts, or sew him new ones when they got too small? She had always said that was a full occupation by itself! Who would remind him to polish his boots, or to smooth his hair before rushing to the dinner table? What would he do when he needed someone to talk to? Someone that wasn't the king of all Rohan?

Théodred loved his father, and prized the time they got to spend together, but his father had so much that he was responsible for that Théodred did not want to take up his time with what would surely seem like petty concerns when compared to ruling a country.

To be honest, Father had never said this to him, and had always made time for him in the past, but surely the needs of the people should come before his own...

Théodred gave a sigh, and gave the table leg a more forceful kick to express his frustration.

Suddenly his father's laugh carried over the sounds of the crowd and the music, and Théodred looked towards the sound. Théoden stood with his sister and her new husband, and had his goblet lifted to toast something that had just been said, though Théodred was too far away to hear what he was saying. Both Théodwyn and Éomund were laughing as well, and as he watched Éomund slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side.

He knew that Théodwyn was happy to be marrying Éomund, and he liked Éomund well enough. He was a great rider, and all his men followed him gladly, or so it seemed. Maybe, when he was old enough, he would be assigned to train in Éomund's eored. Then he would move to Aldburg himself!

This thought brought a smile to Théodred's face. He would be twelve at the end of the month, and so it would be two more years before he would start his training as a squire, the first step of his training to to become a rider, but that wasn't so very long a time after all.

He looked over at his father again, considering. Father had no one to remind him of things like polishing his boots or tidying his hair, and had no need for anyone to do so. Father's chamber and study were always kept neat and orderly, and without anyone telling him to straighten them up. Perhaps he could show Father that he was ready to start training by starting to do things like that himself. He thought Théodwyn would be proud of him, too, if he did.

Slowly he became aware of a girl who was sitting on the bench that ran along the opposite side of his table. She was sitting a couple of feet further down the table as well, but she had turned her head to look at him, and she smiled when he looked up and saw her. She quickly turned her head back to look at the dancers that moved across the floor, but after a moment he could see that she was looking at him again from the corner of her eye.

He frowned slightly as he studied her, trying to figure out what she was doing at his table.

She turned her head to look at him again, and he quickly looked away. She gave a small toss of her pale gold hair then turned on the bench so that she faced him more fully. "Are you going to just sit there for the whole evening, or are you going to ask me to dance?"

Théodred blinked, then straightened as he considered her. She was pretty enough, he supposed, wearing a dress the color of moss which matched her eyes. Her nose was dusted with freckles, but he didn't mind them. She blushed slightly as he looked at her, and dropped her eyes to a her hands, which were folded neatly in her lap.

With a small shrug he stood, then came around the table and offered his best imitation of the courtly bow his father had shown him once. "My lady, would you care to dance with me?"

She had looked up as he approached, and now giggled as she stood and gave a small curtsy. "I would be honored, my lord."

Together they moved towards the dancers and slipped into the pattern, and Théodred never saw the small jerk of his chin that Éomund gave to direct Théoden and Théodwyn's attention to them, nor their proud and approving smiles as they watched the boy starting to become a young man.


	2. A New Addition

September 12, 2995

It was difficult to tell which of them was the more disheveled, the young boy or the young man. It was very clear, however, that both were having a fine time rolling about in the grass and dirt.

Éomer's wooden sword, with its distinctive painted patterns and markings, lay in the grass on one side of the yard while the matching shield lay several feet away, as if the boy had flung them to each side and charged his opponent. There was also a plain sword and shield of the same size that lay a greater distance away, as if said opponent had simply dropped them in order to block the attack.

Beyond the toy weapons lay the combatants themselves, wrestling in the grass. The boy's shrill giggles bounced off the wooden walls and fence, countered by the young man's deeper chuckles as he let the boy think he had the upper hand in their match.

Éomund simply stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, leaning one shoulder against the frame as he watched, shaking his head at the antics. It was clear that Théodred was actually being very careful to avoid any harm coming to the boy, and it seemed a shame to interrupt their fun.

After a few minutes, however, he gave the shrill whistle that he would use on the training grounds to get the riders' attention. Immediately two heads turned to where he stood, and two pairs of eyes grew wide with surprise at being caught. The boys, for Éomund still considered his seventeen year old nephew to be a boy in many ways, glanced at each other, then scrambled up with nearly identical guilty expressions on their faces. Éomund had to chuckle.

"This is your idea of keeping an eye on your cousin, Théodred?"

"Well, sir, you did say to keep him happy and out from under foot, and it's such a fine day it seemed a shame to make him stay inside. And he was starting to ask questions about what was happening, and why he couldn't see his mother, so…"

"So you brought him outside, no doubt intending to teach him what you have learned of wielding a sword."

The younger man shifted a bit, but nodded. "Yes, sir."

Laughing again, Éomund straightened, letting his arms drop. "It is indeed a fine day, and I can understand why neither of you would want to be inside if you could escape.." He ran a hand through his hair. "There were a few times I might have joined you, truth be told. All is well, though."

Théodred grinned as his shoulders relaxed, "I am glad to hear that, sir."

Éomund returned the grin, then crouched down to his son's level, and beckoned the boy closer. Éomer ran to him and threw his arm around his father's neck, while Théodred stooped to pick up the toys and approached more slowly.

Scooping the boy up, Éomund stood. "I am sorry to have spent so little time with you today, my son, but I wanted to be near your Mama in case she needed me. Have you been behaving for your cousin?"

Éomer looked at him solemnly and nodded, "Yes, Papa."

Éomund grinned and kissed his son's brow, "Good boy. Now… Do you want to go see your Mama?"

The boy's face lit up and he nodded enthusiastically.

"And you can meet your new sister, too."

Éomer's face immediately fell. "Sister?! But…" He stopped, and heaved a great sigh before mumbling, "I wanted a brother, Papa, not a sister…"

With a hearty laugh, Éomund hugged the boy tight, "I know you did, and I did what I could for you. But I think you'll come to like having a sister just as much someday."

"But girls just play with stupid dolls all day. What fun is a sister going to be?"

Éomund was still grinning as he turned and walked back into the hall, Théodred falling into step a couple of paces behind. "Probably not much for a while, since she's so small. But once she gets bigger she will need to learn how to use a sword, as your Mama did, and I'll need you to help me teach her."

"Really? I can teach her?"

"You can help, yes, for you'll be nearly as big as..."

"As you, Papa?"

Éomund laughed, "No, not yet, but you may be nearly as big as your cousin is now."

The boy looked back at his cousin and grinned. "That's almost as good." Théodred chuckled softly and wrinkled his nose to make Éomer laugh.

By now they had reached the living quarters, and Éomund turned into Éomer's room and carefully dropped him onto the bed, a long running joke between father and son that made the boy giggle before he frowned. "I thought we were going to see Mama."

"So we are, but first we must get you cleaned up, my boy. Your mama's worked very hard today and is very tired, so she doesn't need to see that her son has been making more work for her by tearing his trousers and shirt."

Éomer looked down at himself, and only then noticed the tears in the knee of his trousers, and the split his elbow had put in his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Papa…"

Having found fresh clothing in the chest of drawers by the wall Éomund brought them over to the bed with a grin. "Never mind, son, it's all part of a fun day. Quickly now, get changed and we'll go see them."

Théodred spoke quietly. "Sir, if I may, I should likely change as well…"

Éomund looked over at him and smiled as Éomer stood up on the bed and started to struggle out of his soiled shirt. "I am not your marshall today, Théodred. Call me uncle, or Éomund. And yes, that would be a good idea, for Théodwyn would never let you near the baby while wearing dirty clothes."

"Yes, sir… Uncle." And he ducked out of the room.

Éomund helped Éomer with getting the new shirt on properly, as Éomer still struggled with the long sleeves the autumn chill required, but the boy insisted on changing his trousers by himself, only allowing Éomund to tie the laces. Théodred had returned by the time Éomund was using a damp cloth to remove the worst of the dirt from his son's face and hands, and then they all went down the hall to the double doors leading to the master's chambers.

Éomund knocked softly, and the door was opened by one of the midwives, who immediately smiled and stood out of the way so they could enter.

The shutters had been closed, so the room was dim despite the fire that blazed in the hearth. But the flickering light was enough to show Théodwyn as she sat resting in the large bed, supported by many pillows. As the door opened she opened her eyes and smiled wearily.

Éomer started to race to his mother, and had Éomund not been expecting it the boy would have bounced onto the bed and into his mother's lap. Éomund stayed him with a firm hand on his shoulder, then lifted the boy into his arms again, and together they went to sit on the edge of the bed. Théodred remained by the door as the midwife closed it again, watching but not wanting to intrude on a family moment.

Théodwyn smile brightened as she looked at her son, and she reached out to run her hand through his curls. "My little man."

She looked up at her husband. "Let him sit next to me on the bed. But, Éomer, I need you to be very still and quiet for me. Can you do that?"

Éomer nodded vigorously and answered in what he thought was a whisper, "Yes, mama."

She laughed softly, and put her arm around him as he slid out of Éomund's arms, pulling him close to her side. He snuggled against her, looking up at her with wide eyes that were a blend of her blue and Éomund's green. "Papa said you have been working hard, but you've been in your room all day. What were you doing, Mama?"

Théodwyn looked at her husband for a moment, and they exchanged an amused grin before she leaned over to kiss the top of Éomer's head. "Your father told you that you have a little sister?"

Éomer sighed and gave a mumbled "Yes."

"Would you like to see her, Éomer?"

"I guess so."

His father interjected softly, "Éomer..."

Éomer had started to sigh again, but looked up at his father's adminition and sat up straighter instead before looking back to his mother. "Yes, Mama. I would like to see her."

Standing quietly, Éomund crossed the few feet to the cradle that was placed nearer the hearth. He crouched down then reached in slowly and lifted a small bundle from within it. He cradled it carefully in his left arm and stood, his smile full of pride as he returned to the bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress again, he adjust the blanket so that when Éomer knelt on the bed he could see the baby within.

"This is Éowyn, your sister." He put his right hand on Éomer's shoulder. "It will be your job to watch after her, Éomer, and see that no one harms her."

Éomer looked at the baby for a long moment, then started with surprise when her eyes opened and she looked up at him. Her brow crinkled into a frown, as if she was considering this new person, but then she gave a small squirm and seemed to smile at her brother before her eyes blinked closed again.

Another moment passed, then Éomer reached out to brush a finger very gently across her cheek. "I will, Papa."

The parents exchanged a warm smile over their children's heads, before returning their attention to the boy and answering his questions about when the baby might be ready to play, and where she would sleep.

Before long Éomund ruffled his son's hair. "Enough questions for now, Éomer. Your mother is tired, and needs to sleep. Say good night now, son, and we will return tomorrow."

Éomer's sound of protest was quelled by a look from his father, and the boy scooted over to snuggle against his mother again. "Good night, Mama."

Théodwyn hugged him close and kissed his head once more "Goodnight my little man, my son. I love you."

Éomer clung to her for another moment, then whispered, "I love you, too, Mama." Turning, he wiggled off the bed and started to walk towards the door.

Éomund stood again, and would have returned the baby to the cradle but Théodwyn spoke. "Leave her with me, dearest. She will need to be fed soon, I suspect."

Éomund hesitated a moment, then leaned over to pass his daughter into her mother's arms. The baby made a small sound of protest but quickly settled again as her mother soothed her. Éomund smiled at them both, then bent his head to press a soft kiss to Éowyn's forehead. He then kissed his wife and whispered a few words to her. She smiled, and lifted her free hand to cup his cheek as she whispered in reply. Éomund rested his forehead against hers for a moment, then turned to follow his son into the hallway, smiling at Théodred as he passed.

As Théodred started to follow through the door he heard Théodwyn call his name. He stopped, and turned to her.

"Do you not want to meet your cousin?"

Slowly he closed the door again, and turned to the bed with a forced smile, "Of course…"

Théodwyn laughed softly. "You are worse than Éomer. She is just a baby, she will not hurt you."

"I am more concerned that I might hurt her."

She laughed again, "Oh nonsense. Here, sit so that you can see her properly."

He obeyed, perching carefully on the edge of the bed, and leaned over to look at the baby in his aunt's arms. A smile grew on his face. "She looks like you."

Théodwyn's smile was full of pride. "I think she has Éomund's ears, though. And of course it's too early to know about her eyes, especially in this light, and their color will likely change anyway." She ran her free hand over the downy blond curls on the top of her daughter's head. "Her hair will likely darken as well, but…"

She glanced over at her nephew, "Would you like to hold her?"

"Me? Hold her? No…." Théodred stood quickly. "No, I do not think would be a good idea…"

Théodwyn grinned, "There is nothing to be afraid of. Sit, and hold out your arms."

He obeyed, slowly, and she used her free hand to arrange his arms properly before carefully passing the baby over to him.

At first he sat very straight, back and arms stiff as if expecting something dreadful to happen. When the baby continued to sleep peacefully he slowly began to relax, and after a few minutes he even smiled. "She is a tiny little thing, is she not?"

Théodwyn smiled fondly, "She will grow quickly. I remember when you were nearly as small yourself, Théodred. It seems not so long ago that you were Éomer's size, and now…" She gave a slightly watery laugh that caused Théodred to look over at her and stiffen again as he saw a few tears on her cheeks.

She dashed them away, and smiled reassuringly. "Oh, I am just being foolish because I am so tired."

Théodred watched his aunt for a moment more, then returned her smile with a small one of his own before looking down at the babe in his arms again. He was surprised to see that she had opened her eyes and was looking up at him steadily while her little mouth started to work.

He grinned down at her, and even laughed lightly as her face scrunched itself up and the little mouth opened, but soon the tiny little girl emitted a cry that seemed far too large for her size.

Looking alarmed and nearly as distressed as the baby Théodred turned wide eyes to his aunt. "What did I do?" When the baby continued to cry, the sound growing even louder, he leaned forward and held his arms out quickly to his aunt. "Here, take her!"

Théodwyn merely laughed as she took Éowyn back in her arms, and as soon as she had Théodred stood and took a step back from the bed. Théodwyn made soothing noises to her daughter, and bent down to kiss the babe's forehead. "She is only hungry, Théodred, you did nothing wrong." She looked over at him and smiled fondly. "Babes eat nearly as often as growing young men do."

Théodred started to smile back but then blushed so deeply it could be seen even in the dim red light provided by the fire. "I… I should… go… then..."

Laughing again, Théodwyn nodded. "Aye, likely you should, for I need desperately to sleep when she is settled again. Will you come visit us tomorrow?"

Théodred gave a quick nod and answered quickly as he took another step back from the bed. "Of course. Good night, then. Sleep well, Théodwyn." And he turned and went to the door at a pace barely short of a run. As the door closed behind him he heard peals of female laughter joining the baby's cries, but he merely leaned against the door for a moment and breathed a sigh of relief.

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Many thanks to the ladies of the Garden of Ithilien for their feedback, and for pointing out corrections, both on this chapter and the first.


	3. Welcome to Meduseld

A/N: Many thanks to Adelli P for her feedback and suggestions.

* * *

December 30, 3002

There were too many people. So many unfamiliar faces and strange voices speaking at once made Éowyn move closer to her brother's side, turning her head so that her face was hidden between her hair and his tunic. Éomer tightened his arm about her shoulders protectively, but he seemed almost as overwhelmed by the swirl of servants and attendants that surrounded them as she was.

A man's voice started to speak over all the other voices, taking charge of the situation, and slowly the cacophony subsided. Eventually even her nurse was sent away to oversee the unpacking.

After the noise had died down she dared to look out from her shelter with one eye and saw first a pair of battered riding boots. When their owner looked down at her she almost hid again, but Éomer didn't seem to be nervous of him, and she took courage from that and stayed as she was. Also, the face of the young man seemed vaguely familiar, though she was too confused and disoriented by all that had happened this past week to place it. Perhaps he had been one of the many who had come to Aldburg to see her mother buried a week before, but she did not want to think of that day.

The man smiled warmly and spoke in a soft voice, "Greetings, cousins. Welcome to Meduseld."

Cousins? Éowyn had heard often in these last few days that they were being sent to Meduseld to live with her uncle and cousin, but while she remembered her uncle from his visits to Aldburg she had no memory of this younger man. Éowyn turned her head a bit more, to look at him more closely, then gave a small gasp as what was familiar about the face clicked into place.

Her mother's eyes! This stranger had her mother's eyes…

It was too much to handle on top of the grief and chaos and upheaval. With a small sob she turned her face once again into her brother's side, and clutched him tightly. Éomer rubbed her shoulder distractedly as he reached out with his free hand to clasp the other man's arm. "Greetings, Cousin Théodred. Thank you…"

Éowyn looked out at the stranger again, and this time his blue eyes met hers, and he smiled kindly as he crouched down to be at her level. "You must be Éowyn. I saw you at Aldburg, but we have not truly met since you were just a very small child, I am afraid. But I have heard much about you."

She gave no answer.

Éomer gave her a small nudge and whispered. "Éowyn, do not be rude. Greet our cousin as you have been taught."

Still she hesitated.

"Éowyn!"

Éowyn looked up at her brother, and he gave a tiny jerk of his head towards their cousin. After taking a deep breath, she released her hold on him long enough to bob a quick and unsteady curtsy. Her words of greeting were spoken so softly that neither Théodred nor Éomer could make them out. Once the barest of courtesies had been observed she immediately retreated back to her shelter at her brother's side. She felt him sigh in exasperation, but did not see her cousin's sympathetic smile.

"I am sorry, cousin Théodred. She has always been rather quiet with all except us and her nurse, and now…"

Théodred held up a hand and gave a small shake of his head to stop Éomer from making any further explanations. "This has been a hard week for you both. A hard month. And now you are in place that you barely know, speaking to a cousin who is little more than a stranger..." He sighed, then stood. "Come, I will take you to your chambers now, and I will have your supper brought to you there tonight. Perhaps this will all be a little easier after a meal and some rest?"

Éomer looked down at his sister then back to his cousin, and nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Smiling, Théodred shook his head. "Théodred will do, Éomer, or cousin if you prefer it." He made a small motion with his hand to indicate a carved door set into the wall at the far end of the great hall, and started walking towards it. Éomer was already nearly as tall as his shoulder, but though Éowyn was tall for her age she did not reach much above his waist, so he shortened his stride to accommodate her as they walked. He spoke with Éomer about their travels from Aldburg, but Éowyn remained silent.

Behind the door was a hallway wide enough for three to walk abreast, and which ran parallel to the great hall. Leading them to the left, back towards the front of the building, they passed several doors that led off to their right.

Soon they came to a partly open doorway near the end of the hall, and Théodred stopped. "Éomer, this will be your room, if it is acceptable to you." He motioned for Éomer to step inside, and Éowyn of course followed, her hand still fisted tightly in the back of her brother's tunic.

After pushing the door fully open and taking a few steps inside Éomer stopped. Though he was able to keep his face carefully blank Théodred noticed that his shoulders slumped a little as he looked about the room that had been given to him.

It was rather bare, with only a bed pushed against the wall to the right and a chest of drawers against the wall to the left. There was a large fireplace in the wall opposite the bed, and a fire burned brightly there, adding warmth and light to the room. There was a small window in the wall directly across from the door, but while the thick shutters were pulled closed against the cold there were no curtains, and there were no wall hangings or other decorations on the walls. On the floor there was a thick rug of unbleached and undyed wool, bordered in a dark green. Matching blankets were piled on the foot of the bed, along with several pillows. The few things Éomer had brought with him from Aldburg, other than clothing, were placed neatly on top of the chest of drawers.

Théodred explained. "I did not have much brought in for you, as you are certainly old enough to choose for yourself what furnishings you require or want. Once you have settled in a little you are welcome to anything else that you would like, and any wall hangings or other decorations that may appeal to you. Even the rug can be changed, if you wish it. The room is yours, and it should be comfortable to you rather than being what someone else thinks you should like."

As he spoke, Théodred had watched his cousin closely. Well did he remember the feeling of pride he had felt when given his first opportunities to make decisions for himself, when he had been about Éomer's age, and he hoped that allowing the boy to have a say in how his room was furnished might have the same effect.

When Théodred has finished speaking Éomer looked up at him, and Théodred was pleased to see that his shoulders had straightened, and a faint spark of life showed in his eyes now and not just the blank look of grief that had been there before. He had made the right decision, it seemed, and it lightened the grief in his own heart a little.

He saw that Éowyn had moved a little away from her brother's side as she had looked about the room, and he smiled warmly at her when her slow circle brought her to face him. "Would you like to see your room now, Éowyn?"

Watching her reach out and grab Éomer's tunic made him lift one eyebrow slightly. The girl had quick reflexes, and hadn't needed to look to know exactly where her target was. He had heard that Éomer was already showing Éomund's skill with a sword, and he briefly wondered if Éowyn might have inherited it as well.

Éomer gave a barely audible sigh when he felt the tug on his tunic, but he put his arm around his sister's shoulders again, and guided her patiently towards the door.

Théodred led them down the hallway but stopped before the next door, only a few feet away from Éomer's. Pushing it open, he gave a theatrically exaggerated bow to Éowyn as he motioned for her to enter first. "Most fair lady, this will be your domain and abode. I hope it will be to your liking."

Perhaps it was the flickering of the light provided by the torches in the hallway and the fire in the room, but he thought he might have seen her give a ghost of a smile as she left her brother's side and entered the room.

Unlike Éomer's room, hers was fully and comfortably furnished. The hearth was to the right of the doorway, backed against the hearth in Éomer's room, and there was a chest of drawers against the wall to the left. As in Éomer's room, the window was in the wall opposite the door, but here the shutters were covered in curtains intricately woven with patterns in many shades of green. Her bed also faced the hearth, but it was surrounded by heavy curtains of the same colors and pattern as those over the window. The blankets on the bed were the color of the goldenrod that bloomed in the fields in autumn, providing a pleasing contrast to the curtains. The rug on the floor was woven from the same shades of green and gold, with cream and a rich red worked into the pattern as well.

Shelves had been constructed against the wall between the chest of drawers and the hearth, and they were filled with many things. Carved horses paraded across them, ranging from crude to very fine indeed, as if to show how the skill of the carver had increased with time. There was an oval wooden tray with a child sized pewter pitcher and matching small cups, and a colorfully painted but well worn wooden top was tucked securely between the wall and a support.

In the center of the top shelf was a larger object wrapped in a white cloth. As Éowyn looked about the room Théodred walked silently to the shelf and picked it up before he crouched down where he was, facing the girl. "Éowyn?"

She turned to look at him with wary eyes, but this time she stood her ground by the bed rather than fleeing to her brother's side. Théodred was pleased to see it, and smiled as he held the wrapped item out to her. "This once belonged to your mother. I thought you might like to have it now."

After a moment her gaze shifted to he held, but she did not move towards him.

Slowly, Théodred removed the wrapping to reveal a cloth doll. It had long brown hair made of yarn that was almost dyed to almost exactly the color of Théodwyn's, and blue eyes. It was dressed in a simple green dress, and the feet had been dipped in brown dye to give the appearance of shoes.

Here and there, especially on the arms, was darning, showing that the doll had been well used and lovingly repaired when worn.

Slowly, one cautious step at a time, Éowyn came towards her cousin, looking at the doll all the while. When she was almost within reach of the doll she stopped, and lifted her gaze to regard her cousin for a long moment, as if she was weighing the value of having the prize he held against the risk of coming close enough to claim it. He waited with understanding and patience born of teaching skittish colts to accept a bridle for the first time, the doll held out steadily in his hands.

At last she took the final step needed to close the distance between them, and she slowly picked up the doll with both hands. She held it up before her for a moment, and looked at it closely before running one hand gently along the braided hair. Finally she hugged the doll close to her chest as she looked at Théodred again, and she spoke to him clearly for the first time.

"Thank you. Cousin."

Théodred's smile was warm and bright, and this time she returned it with a tiny smile of her own.


	4. Lessons

This story is somewhat of a prequel to The Marshall and His Lady, written to explain the look that Éomund gives his son as he mentioned Théodwyn's rule against swords in the hall. No need to read both for either to make sense, I just thought I'd give that bit of background.

* * *

March 3, 3002

Spring was long in coming to the Riddermark, and the lingering cold and snow had kept many indoors far longer than was their custom. When a late snow storm blew across the plains for three days, leaving deep drifts of snow that were nearly as tall as a man in some places, the tempers of even the most mild and patient of the Eorlingas were sorely tested and frayed. Whines, scuffles and warmed bottoms could be found on an almost daily basis in most households that included children.

At last the storm blew itself out, and the sun returned to a perfectly blue sky that made a mockery of the frigid cold that still lingered.

By midday, paths had been cleared throughout the town of Aldburg, and the cold had brought most to the warmth and comfort of a fire, a hot meal and, most importantly, company in the main hall.

Ingvild, chatelaine to the marshal and lady of Aldburg, faced an endless battle against the snow and the mud tracked in by each pair of boots that crossed the threshold into the hall. At least one of the servants had been working to keep the floor dry throughout the morning, and after most of the riders had finished their meal and returned either to their barracks to to their duties on the town walls every servant who could be spared from the kitchens and other household duties had returned to the fray, armed with buckets and rags, and led by Ingvild herself.

Suddenly the door leading to the private quarters of the Marshal and his family burst open hard enough to bounce off the wall, and two boys on the verge of becoming young men came running through, yelling and jeering at each other as they sparred with their wooden practice swords.

They did not notice how the sudden noise and commotion had startled those who had remained within the hall.

Nor did they notice that Ingvild was on her hands and knees next to a bucket of warm water not far from the door, cleaning the flagstones that made up the floor.

One of the boys noticed her at the very last moment, and tried to stop his companion from backing into her, but it was too late. The boy's boot collided with her ankle, and he fell backwards, sword flying from his hand as he tried desperately to break his fall.

Fortune was with him enough that he avoided landing completely on top of the chatelaine, but she was knocked onto her hip, her back and legs twisting under the force of the impact.

He was not so lucky as to miss the bucket. It was knocked over with a loud thud and a splash, and the warm water ran out across the floor in a flood of suds.

Both boy and woman were quickly soaked, and many others had to scramble to avoid getting their feet or clothing wet as the water spread.

Over all the commotion, before the unfortunate boy had even fully landed on the floor, a voice rang out clear and loud.

"Éomer, son of Éomund…"

Éomer looked up at his friend, eyes pleading for help to get up before his mother arrived, but Éothain merely looked back at him with an expression of panic as the lady of the hall sailed towards them through the crowd. Giving Éomer a small helpless shrug, he took a tiny step backwards. The look in Éomer's eyes turn from a plea for help to a silent promise of retribution as he scrambled to get his feet under him, splashing yet more water over his tunic and, inadvertantly, Ingvald as he did so.

Théodwyn walked through the water, her lips set in a hard line and her eyes fierce as she looked at her son. She came to the aid of Ingvild before addressing her son, helping the older woman to stand even as Éomer did. When Éomer tried to apologize his mother silenced him with a look before returning her attention to the chatelaine, and escorting her to where the floor was dry before releasing her to the care of one of the younger maids.

Ingvild gave a small sympathetic smile and murmured to Théodwyn as they walked towards where the floor was dry. "Do not be too hard on them, my lady, for no real harm has been done. Boys will be boys, after all."

Théodwyn returned the smile with a tight one of her own and replied in a voice only Ingvild could hear. "You are most kind, Ingvild, but I have had enough. More than enough. He must learn to consider the consequences of his actions if he is to become a marshal one day."

Ingvild's smile grew a little as she nodded, for she had also raised sons and so understood her lady's frustration, and then she moved carefully off towards the kitchens to get dry. She limped slightly, favoring the hip that was sure to be bruised by the next morning, and her soaked leather shoes made squelching noises in the hush that had fallen over the hall.

Once the door to the kitchens had closed behind the chatelaine Théodwyn returned to her son, who had crouched down to right the bucket while she was assisting Ingvild, and had started to try to mop up some of the water with the already soaking wet rag. He straightened when he saw she as approaching, dropping the rag into the bucket with a plop, and started talking while she was still several feet away.

"I am sorry, Mother. We did not mean…"

"Have you not been told that you are not to burst through that door in such a way?"

His voice dropped a little as he answered quickly, "Yes, Mother. But how..."

"And have I not warned you that someday someone might be on the other side of the door and be hurt if you were not more careful?"

"Yes, Mother. But it was..."

"And yet you still do it. That wall has had to be patched three times already this winter!"

"But, Mother, Ingvild was not hurt! Not seriously at least, and…"

"Enough! I will hear no excuses for your behaviour, not this time. This time it will be up to your father to decide what your punishment is to be, since you will not listen to me."

Éomer blanched and his eyes grew wide again, this time with fear.

Sighing with exasperation Théodwyn looked about hall, taking in the full extent of the mess. After a moment she looked at her son and softened a little. "Are you hurt?"

He shook his head vigorously. "No, Mother"

Théodwyn nodded briskly, and her eyes hardened again. "Good."

She held out one hand to him. "Bring me your sword." After a moment's hesitation, which caused her to lift her brows, Éomer quickly fetched his sword from where it had fallen to the floor and brought it to her. She tucked it through her belt, heedless of the way it was dampening her skirts, and then looked at her son sternly.

"Since you seem unable to learn when and where it is appropriate to wield this sword it is now mine." Éomer started to protest but she silenced him with a look and raised brows. "It will be returned to you when I think that you are ready for it, but you will not be allowed to have it in this hall again, for any reason, save to carry it from the doors directly to your room. Is that clear?"

Éomer nodded meekly, and Théodwyn nearly smiled at the glum expression on his face. Receiving his first true practice sword from his father was a source of great pride for a boy of the Mark, and to have it taken away by his mother… But better wounded pride than a broken arm. Or worse.

"What else am I to do, Éomer? You will not listen to what I tell you, so what else is there for me to do to make you understand? You must learn to think of the consequences your actions might have on those around you, and if this is the only way to teach you..."

Éothain tried to take another small step back, and Théodwyn speared him with a glance. "I will make sure that your parents know of this as well, mark my words, Éothain. I am sure your mother will be no more pleased with your actions than I am with Eomer's."

Éothain gulped audibly, but then nodded and mumbled "Yes, my lady. I mean, no, my lady."

Théodwyn sighed before continuing. "Now, you will both go to Ingvald and apologise to her for the harm you caused her. Then, while we wait for your fathers to return from their duties you will clean up this mess you have created, and you will finish the work that Ingvild was doing before you interrupted her. This entire floor is to be clean before the evening meal, or you will answer to me further. Go, make your apologies, then get rags and fresh water from the kitchen. And do not dawdle."

She cut her son off even as he opened his mouth with what she knew would be another protest. "Yes, Éomer, Éomund's son, you will clean the floor like one of the servants. A few hours of menial labor will surely be far less of a trial to you than Ingvild's ankle and hip will be to her for the next days. And maybe the work will help you learn to show more consideration for those who do it for you daily."

He nodded meekly, looking at the toes of his boots. "Yes, Mother."

When the boys simply continued to stand before her, looking down at the floor that still swam with soapy water, she raised her eyebrows again. "Well? Why are you still standing here?"

The boys turned towards the kitchen and started to walk away before Théodwyn said softly "Éomer... the bucket?"

He turned back around, scooped up the handle of the bucket and then jogged a few steps to catch up to Éothain. He did not see that his mother watched them go with an expression of exasperation mixed with humor and love before she walked through the door to the family's quarters to put away the sword and change her own shoes.

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AN: Huge thanks to Thanwen, Gwynnyd, Lialanthuveril and Sian22 for their feedback and suggestions! As always, I appreciate it more than I can express.


	5. Practice Makes Perfect

May 17, 3000

Éomund stood at the foot of the steps leading into Aldburg's great hall, his heart in his throat. Éowyn had run off from her mother before, but had never been missing for this long. And this time she had not been found in any of her usual hiding places. Every servant who could be spared from their duties had been called upon to help in the search, some of the riders as well, and the city rang with the sound of both men and women calling her name.

Éomund's fear grew stronger with each passing moment, and he knew that Theodwyn was near to frantic with worry.

"Marshal Éomund! Over here!"

The marshal looked over at the young rider who had beckoned him and then ran towards him. The Rider turned as he approached, and they continued on together. In minutes they were approaching the stables and slowed to a walk before they entered the building. The younger man stopped just inside the doors, looked at his Marshal and then silently pointed towards the box holding Thunder.

Éomund froze for a moment when the impact of the gesture hit him; his little girl in an enclosed stall with his warhorse…/

He gave a small nod, clapped a hand on the rider's shoulder and hurried towards the stall to face whatever he would find inside.

Once he had looked over the door he leaned against it in relief./

Lips pursed and brow furrowed in concentration, Éowyn stood behind Thunder on a wooden box, her small hands full of sections of his tail. Her hands moved slowly, though he could not yet see what she was doing.

Éomund called her name softly as he entered the stall, and she looked up at him then smiled brightly.

"Papa! Look - I made Thunder pretty!"

Thunder turned his head to look at Eowyn then back at his master, his expression baleful.

Laying his hand on Thunder's forehead, Éomund ran it soothingly along the stallion's neck and body as he advanced towards his daughter. After what felt like an age he reached her and scooped her up in his arms to hug her tight with relief. It was a long moment before he looked back to Thunder to see what she had meant.

A very messy and uneven braid adorned the stallion's tail, and Éomund could not help but offer a weak laugh. "Aye… Aye you did, sweetheart."

Thunder gave a short snort, followed by a soft stamp of a hoof.

Éomund bent to pick up the box his daughter had been standing on, then made his way back out the stall, putting the box aside and closing the stall door securely behind them before setting Éowyn on the ground. He took a breath and released it slowly before crouching down to look at his daughter eye to eye. "Éowyn, why did you run off from your mother that way? Why would you worry us so by making us look for you?"

"I'm sorry, Papa..."

He put his hands on her arms. "And what have I told you about going into Thunder's stall?"

She looked at the ground and shuffled her feet a little, but didn't answer.

"Answer me, Éowyn"

She glanced up at him quickly, then dropped her eyes back to the straw at her feet. "That I should not, unless you are with me." The mumble was barely heard, even in the quiet of the stable.

"Aye, that is right. Because he could hurt you very badly, Éowyn, without even meaning to."

"But, Papa, I only..."

"No. I will not hear any excuses. Éowyn..." He stopped and sighed deeply as he looked at the floor. When he looked up again his face was stern. "You know the rules, and you have deliberately chosen to break them. There will be consequences for this, Éowyn. Go to your chamber, and wait for me there."/

Her chin trembled slightly before she nodded and whispered. "Yes, sir."

Hardening himself against the show of tears he added. "Go straight there, daughter. Do not dawdle along the way or go to the kitchens first."

Eowyn looked up and met her father's eyes for a moment, before dropping them again as she nodded a second time. Slowly she turned and started to walk toward the doors of the stable, dragging her feet in the straw with each step.

Éomund watched her until she disappeared through the stable's doors, then pressed an unsteady hand to his eyes for a long moment before standing. He walked a little way down the aisle and found an apple, which he offered to Thunder.

As Thunder ate his treat Éomund scratched his forelock and ears.

"Thank you, my friend."

Thunder regarded Éomund as he chewed, then nudged his nose into his master's shoulder, making the man smile a little.

"I will come back and right your tail as soon as I can." He chuckled softly. "Will you be as kind to me as you were to her?"

Thunder nickered softly, clearly saying that he would make no promises.

Éomund laughed more fully before giving the stallion's neck a final pat and following his daughter towards the hall.


	6. Footsteps in the Dark

Written for Teitho's Sound Cue prompt, where it placed second.

* * *

March 21, 3004

Noise trickled through the heavy wooden door of her chamber. At first, Éowyn just rolled over in her bed, and sighed as she tried to find the perfect position which would hopefully let her fall asleep. She had gone to bed hours before, but her mind was too busy to let her rest. Théodred was to have arrived from the Westfold in the afternoon, but he had not arrived as expected.

Of course she knew that didn't mean that something terrible had happened. Of course she knew that! Most likely it was a minor incident, such as a homestead on fire that had made the men stop to help. That would be exactly what Théodred would have done.

But while her reasoning mind knew there was likely something simple that had caused the delay, she could not shake the fear in her heart, or block the images that formed. Images of her brother, for that was how she thought of Théodred, lying dead in the shallow water of a bubbling stream, arrows embedded in his chest, face slack while lifeless eyes stared up at the clouds overhead.

After a few minutes, she noticed that the noise from the hall had not only continued but had grown louder. She could hear voices, though none were distinct. Slowly, the speakers seemed to grow closer, but the voices dropped so low that she still could not identify them by the sound. For a moment, the men seemed to stop a little way down the hall, and then the speaking stopped.

Then she heard a new sound, and she lifted her head from the pillow to hear more clearly.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and she thought… Yes! She knew that stride! Many times she had heard it go by her doorway in just this way, and found comfort in the knowledge that her cousin was right down the hall from her, and would keep watch over her?

Théodred was home!

She pushed the covers away, and nearly cried out in frustration when her feet became entangled in the sheets. It took only a moment to free herself, though it seemed far longer to the impatient girl, and then she was flying to the door.

The bar had not been dropped across it, so she barely had to pause to lift the latch and dart into the hallway beyond.

Sure enough, she recognised Theordred's stance, his way of walking as he headed towards the door to his own chamber.

Headless of the fact she wore only her thin sleeping shift, she ran down the hall after him, bare feet slapping on the flagstones.

He started to laugh even has he turned, and when she made a flying leap into his arms he caught her with ease.

"Westu hal, Éowyn!" He held her close, her feet well clear of the floor, but eventually set her down and grinned. "What are you doing up so late, little one? You should have been asleep hours ago!"

She scowled at him for a moment, but couldn't hold it long, and grinned once more. "Well, you were supposed to have been here hours ago! So it's your fault that I'm up so late,"

Laughing, Théodred put his hand on her shoulder, and turned her towards her chamber. His boots filled the hall once more as they walked together. "I am sorry to have kept you waiting, cousin. Hamma's horse threw a shoe as we rode, and I did not want to leave him alone to walk to the nearest smithy." He looked down at her, smiling, then stopped right in the middle of the hall, and crouched down in front of her. "What is the matter, Éowyn?"

She gave a quick shake of her head, then impatiently pushed her hair behind her ears. "Nothing! I just… couldn't sleep is all."

Théodred looked at her more closely, and then simply lifted a brow slightly. She returned his look for a moment, then looked away and sighed. "I... When you didn't come home…"

"Oh, Éowyn." Understanding and compassion filled his eyes, and he took her gently into his arms again. "I am fine. Nothing at all happened to put us in any danger."

She wrapped her arms tightly around him, and then nodded as he spoke. "I knew that in my head, truly I did, but…"

Understanding came to him, and he held her more closely. She had been thinking of her father, who had ridden out with promises to return and never had. "I know, little one. I know." He paused for a moment, then continued more softly. I miss him, too." For a long while she continued to cling to him, and he seemed content enough to hold her until her fears eased. When she at last loosened her hold on him he looked at her again. "I cannot promise that I will always come home to you, Éowyn, but I give you my word I will do all that I can to be here for you whenever I can."

With a slightly watery smile she nodded. "I know, Théodred. And I'll be here for you, too." She looked down at her bare feet. "Not that you'll ever need me, but…"

He lifted one hand to cuff her lightly under the chin, and she giggled. "I will always need you, little cousin. Soon enough you'll be old enough to train with a real sword, and I'll sleep better at night knowing you're here to help protect father,"

Her face lit up at the mention of a real sword. "Really? You think that I'm ready for a real sword." She grinned widely. "Éomer didn't get a real practice sword until he was eleven, and I'm still only ten! I'm better than he is! I can't wait to tell…"

Théodred's laugh cut her off, and he just shook his head as he stood. "No, Éowyn, you are not quite ready yet. I said soon enough, not tomorrow."

The speed at which her face changed from gloating to fury made him laugh again. Her hands clenched into fists, and her chin came up proudly, making her the very image of her father and her brother, and it made him both proud and a little sad. When she opened her mouth to protest he cut her off gently. "Éowyn, enough for now. It is late, and I have been riding and walking all day. You may not be ready for sleep yet, but I most certainly am"

For a moment he thought that she might still protest, but then she relaxed her stance and dropped her eyes again. "I'm sorry, Théodred. It was inconsiderate of me to keep you here talking when you're tired from a long day."

Théodred reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "No, it was most courteous of you to wait up and welcome me home, even at this late hour, and I thank you for it." He offered her a small bow. "Now, my lady, shall I escort you back to your chamber?"

She grinned up at him, and gave a far less practiced curtsy, then held out her hand, as she had seen ladies do when a man asked them to dance at a feast. "That would be most kind of you, my lord."

With a chuckle, he took her hand, and tucked it into the crook of his elbow, and walked her back to her chamber, and helped her straighten out the sheets before she clambered into the bed once more. She snuggled into the pillow, and gave a huge yawn as she did.

After pressing a light kiss to her brow, Théodred stood and walked quietly toward the door.

"Théodred?"

He turned to look at her again, noticing her eyes were already closed. "Yes, Éowyn?"

"I'm glad you're home." Her voice was slurred, and he could tell by the way that her face relaxed that she was already asleep by the time she finished speaking.

With a final smile, he answered softly, "I am, too, little one."


End file.
